The Golden Mirror
The fog did not roll in so much as it erupted, a thick, sulfurous wall that swallowed the iron bridges of the industrial district in a single, suffocating breath, and you stood there on the wet cobblestones, your service pistol heavy and useless in your hand, watching the sky tear open above the smelter stacks. It was a sound like a scream stretched thin, a high-pitched whine that vibrated in...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 3 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen